His own chaotic swirl of emotions suddenly clarified with a single, stunning sentence. Yes, he thinks, something warm solidifying deep in his heart. Yes, that's right, and it takes him a moment to understand it, for the trust isn't new. He had trusted Astarion to protect him even before the conversation began; he'd trusted him from that first night in bed, when his charge had whispered a promise to keep him safe.
But it's the line suddenly connecting them that shifts things. No more are they two utterly different creatures who have managed to forge a connection; suddenly, he looks at the elf nestled in his arms and thinks: you understand. What it is to be so lost and lonely that you cannot trust anyone but yourself; what it is to know that those around you wouldn't care if you lived or died, if you were miserable or happy, if you were sick or sad or tired, just so long as you kept doing whatever it was you were deigned to do.
You know what a wonder it is to have found someone like you, and a surge of protective adoration rises up within him, warm and soft and wonderful.]
I know.
[Said without a smile, but all the more sincere for it. What a strange, wonderful thing he's stumbled upon tonight, baffling and yet all the more perfect for it. His arms wrap around Astarion's waist, drawing him in close, as he bumps their noses together in a gentle nuzzle.]
I would see it someday, if ever Hadriana dares show her face in Baldur's Gate. Though you might need a few more lessons before you can actually manage to slit her throat.
[A slanted smile to echo Astarion's own, but it fades as he adds:]
Fierce thing . . . three centuries, and I have never known anyone like you.
no subject
His own chaotic swirl of emotions suddenly clarified with a single, stunning sentence. Yes, he thinks, something warm solidifying deep in his heart. Yes, that's right, and it takes him a moment to understand it, for the trust isn't new. He had trusted Astarion to protect him even before the conversation began; he'd trusted him from that first night in bed, when his charge had whispered a promise to keep him safe.
But it's the line suddenly connecting them that shifts things. No more are they two utterly different creatures who have managed to forge a connection; suddenly, he looks at the elf nestled in his arms and thinks: you understand. What it is to be so lost and lonely that you cannot trust anyone but yourself; what it is to know that those around you wouldn't care if you lived or died, if you were miserable or happy, if you were sick or sad or tired, just so long as you kept doing whatever it was you were deigned to do.
You know what a wonder it is to have found someone like you, and a surge of protective adoration rises up within him, warm and soft and wonderful.]
I know.
[Said without a smile, but all the more sincere for it. What a strange, wonderful thing he's stumbled upon tonight, baffling and yet all the more perfect for it. His arms wrap around Astarion's waist, drawing him in close, as he bumps their noses together in a gentle nuzzle.]
I would see it someday, if ever Hadriana dares show her face in Baldur's Gate. Though you might need a few more lessons before you can actually manage to slit her throat.
[A slanted smile to echo Astarion's own, but it fades as he adds:]
Fierce thing . . . three centuries, and I have never known anyone like you.
You were worth waiting for.